Valentine's Day
by Willowsticks
Summary: The pressure is on to get their first valentines day just right...


She certainly hadn't been expecting anything for Valentine's Day. When it had become obvious that their relationship was heading on a firm footing ever closer to the day itself she had had to tell herself that that's all it would be for him. Just another day. And one that he probably resented. She knew that he wasn't exactly the most romantic man in the world, let alone the island or even the station, but she had been secretly harbouring thoughts all day that he was going to pull something out of the bag. Even a coffee with extra chocolate sprinkles on the top, the one he knew she liked, would have been enough. But as the day wore on and he sat there across the station from her, hope began to fade completely and she started thinking about making her own plans for them.

Perhaps it wasn't up to him. Why should it be? Her thoughts began to race away with her as she thought back over their last week together. He had seemed more preoccupied than usual, the phone calls that always ended when she appeared, his late nights working at the station meaning he avoided her bed and his general nervousness around her, something she hadn't seen since his first arrival on the island. She supposed that when applied to anyone else they could be seen as classic signals of infidelity, but was determined to think that Richard was different. Maybe it was her.

She knew that he found her overwhelming at times, he'd told her often enough, not in so many words, he'd phrased it as her being a 'handful,' 'feisty' or 'ruled by her emotions' and she'd always taken it as a compliment, a reflection of her French breeding. But he never had been very good at expressing himself when it came to his emotions and it dawned on her now that perhaps he had been trying and failing to tell her that it was too much for him. She was in the middle of planning how exactly she would make it up to him when he looked up from his desk.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Hmmmm?" The vision she had of her new underwear on the floor next to his bed vanished under his question. "Oh nothing." He smiled but said nothing. "What?"

"You just, you have a little frown line."

"So?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He rubbed his own frown line between his eyes lightly, aware that Camille must have picked up the habit from him then looked at his watch quickly, it was almost the end of the day. No one would mind five minutes. "We can probably head home. No point staying around here when there's nothing to do."

"You don't need to work tonight?"

He shrugged. "It can wait, I've worked too many late nights recently." He smiled secretively as she came over to him and lent over his desk, giving him a perfect view of her cleavage. His heart rate soared as it always did as she held out her hand to him.

"Come on then."

* * *

They drove back to his house in near perfect silence, both contemplating the evening's activities ahead, both equally nervous but in very different ways. Richard unlocked the door for the second time that day but stepped back to let Camille in first. It was beginning to get dark outside and the little house was already in the gloom when Camille took her first step inside and something crunched underfoot.

"Richard there's sand everywhere." He moved behind her to turn some of the lamps, the weak bulbs and electricity combining to cast flickering beams over the wooden floor and basic furniture that he had only recently started to call home. Camille's worry turned to surprise as she realised that the sand was actually petals and that they were everywhere.

She could feel him behind her. "I'm sorry there aren't any candles, I was meant to get here before you, but..." he shrugged as he trailed off. The silence reigned supreme between them, Camille rendered utterly speechless by his thoughtfulness and care. Richard, naturally interpreted it as a void between them that couldn't go undisturbed. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I've never really been one for roses myself, I wanted something a bit different, the local florist was very obliging. I mean I suppose I could have gone into the forest and picked everything myself, but I never really got around to it. And I'm not sure my clothing would have been entirely appropriate. Anyway – they probably saw me coming, the whole thing was ridiculously expensive and I'm not sure it was even a good idea because you, well you haven't really said anything." He paused hoping to elicit a reaction from her. "Is it ok?"

He stopped and assessed the silence again before rambling on. "You don't like them. I knew I should have gone with roses." He addressed her directly again. "We've never talked about flowers, I suppose it never really came up. I just thought you might appreciate something a bit more," he gesticulated, trying to find the right word, "wild in the house. You always talk about how much you love the island I just thought you might like a bit of it in here."

"Please say something? Camille? Have I done something awful?" he interpreted the heave of her shoulders as distress. "Oh God are you crying? I knew I shouldn't have done anything. I'll tidy it away. Honestly in 10 minutes you won't even know this stuff was in here."

He grabbed the nearest bin and attempted to scoop up a first handful.

"I love it." It came out as a whisper.

It was his turn to be stunned into submission. "Really?"

She nodded. "I just never expected that you would do anything like this. I thought...Oh God!" Her thoughts returned to the late afternoon in the office before they had left, her belief that he was drifting away from her and her frantically trying to think of new ways to keep him.

He too was also thinking of his secrecy over the past week. "Did you think I didn't love you?

"No, I just thought that you needed a bit of encouragement." Her eyes followed the trail of petals from the door to the bed and realised how wrong she had been, how he must have planned every aspect of this, sneaking away from the station at some point earlier that day to lay them out. The petals were fresh, the humidity yet to render them useless. She also knew he would never have allowed another person into his home to put flowers on their bed. He had loosened up considerably since his arrival but such a personal request of that nature would never have been made of a stranger. She wondered idly when he had done it? He had seemed preoccupied earlier in the afternoon and had taken a later lunch break than usual. She smiled to herself, yes that was when he had probably done it.

"When have I ever needed any encouragement to take you to bed?" He followed her train of thought, "to bed Camille. The office doesn't count, no matter how hard you try."

She pouted then giggled as she wrapped her arms around him drawing him into a kiss. "I really do love it you know."

"Good. I thought it might be nice to do something properly for our first one."

"Only the first one?"

"I think I might be rather out of ideas after this. And they were very expensive. Did I mention that?"

She laughed again. "Are you insinuating that you would like some sort of return for your investment?"

He pursed his lips and gave a hopeful nod as her arms tightened around him again. They followed the trail of flowers on the floor to the bed where they collapsed dislodging more flowers in the process.

"You did get roses!"

"Well I suppose I'm noting if not traditional."

Why are they different colours?"

"One for each of the ways I love you."

She gave him a confused look. "Each rose colour means you love me in a different way?"

"Erm, sort of. They don't necessarily stand for love but they do have different meanings. I'm a bit rusty on what they all mean but I'm pretty sure I remember the basics.

"And they are?"

"Red is for passion." She giggled again.

"And yellow?"

He suddenly got embarrassed and tried to kiss her. "You can probably look up the other two on the internet."

"Why are they dirty?"

"No of course not!"

"Well then tell me! You bought them for me, you should tell me what they mean."

He shuffled a little as he avoided her gaze but realised he was trapped underneath her and that her hands had found his face, forcing him to look at her. He cleared his throat. "Friendship. Because, um, you're my best friend, and that's what everyone says should come first." He sounded a little choked when he said this and Camille face softened as she murmured his name and kissed him. It was his turn to take control now as his hands roamed down her back stopping to teasingly finger the clasp of her bra as his hands finally closed around her waist. He was about to slide them down further when she pulled a halt to their kiss.

"And the white?"

"The white?"

"Yes the white!"

He became embarrassed again. "Purity."

She snorted and he blushed profusely. "I don't think that applies to either of us Richard, not even when we first got together."

"No it doesn't mean that – just...oh look it up on the internet! It's embarrassing!" And with that he tried to hide in her embrace again but she was too quick for him and was already on her feet scrolling through her phone. He was up after her, making a grab for both her and the offending object while she danced just out of reach.

"I didn't mean now. Camille!" She leapt over the bed laughing as he tried in vain to catch her lumbering after her with all the coordination and dexterity of a bear with a hangover.

She stopped when she found what she wanted. "Pure love."

"That's what I said"

"No you said purity."

"It's the same thing."

"No it implies something completely different."

"Only in your mind!"

She allowed him to catch her, finally capturing his lips with hers.

"Is it really pure?"

He nodded. "Unconditional, if you want it."

"And to think I only got you a card."

"I love cards."

"I know, but, oh my God after this is so embarrassing. I didn't think you were doing anything so I got a really embarrassing card, because thought it would remind you that it was just a stupid day and that it didn't matter."

"How embarrassing?"

"I don't want to give it to you."

He looked at her in astonishment then was off like a shot, grabbing her handbag from the floor where she had left it and rifling through until he found what he was looking for.

"Noooooooooo!"

"He had the envelope open off before she could wrestle it off him.

He read it out loud. "The reason I am sending this valentine card has nothing to do with the fact you have an enormous... OH MY GOD CAMILLE!"

"I know – I'm so sorry, I thought it was funny. And it's not, it's awful." Richard was still standing there looking as though he wished that the ground would swallow him up. "I don't know what I was thinking." Camille looked mortified as Richard suddenly burst out laughing.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because it's the only sodding Valentine's Day card I've received for years and I can't bloody put it on my desk!"

You're not angry?

"No...I mean it's quite a nice compliment actually." He felt pretty smug and it was now Camille's turn to blush. "I um, I actually got your a card too, it's pretty rubbish." She looked anxious. "Don't worry, it's not something I had to buy on the internet." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather battered looking card. "It looked a bit nicer before I lay on it. Sorry."

She ripped it open and read it incredulous. "It says 'you make tea properly.'"

"Oh God its crap isn't it." She couldn't stop giggling. "I just wanted something that wasn't romantic so that it didn't feel like overkill."

She was grinning over the card. "So I make tea properly..."

"Well I couldn't find a card that said you make an alright cup of tea so I had to get you that one instead...ouch!" He dodged a second hit by her. "It's still better than yours..."

"At least mine was a better compliment."

"That just shows how much you know about an Englishman and his tea..." She giggled and as he went back to kissing her she realised that they were still standing in the middle of the floor, far too far away from the bed for her liking.

"I did have one more Valentine's present for you..."

"Oh...?" He looked at her and followed her hand as it started to undo the buttons on her shirt revealing a glimpse of sheer red lace.

She was about to ask him if he liked it but the words somehow got caught in her throat as he picked her up, wrapping her legs around him as he crashed his way over to the bed.

**A/N So the cards are real - I found them on the internet!**


End file.
